One Must Imagine
by could-have-beens
Summary: The first time he kissed her, it wasn't for any deep or meaningful reason. He did it because her eyes were impossibly green, and the dying sunlight had set her hair ablaze.
1. revolt

Now I know what you're thinking: _another _StarX WIP? Don't you have enough already?

To which I say: yes, I do, but this was the fic that got me out of my writing slump, and it's really just a drama and angst-filled Red X-centric story that I needed to get out of my system so _here_. Unlike my other StarX stuff, this one only has 3 parts and I've finished writing all of it. So I can say with absolute confidence that I _can_ and _will_ have the whole thing published soon.

Enjoy!

* * *

"_The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."_

_― Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus_

* * *

When he first read the story of Sisyphus, a lot of it went over his head. Unsurprising, considering absurdist think-pieces that ended with _life has no meaning so suck it up_ wasn't exactly the sort of light reading meant for an eight-year-old. But it was one of the few books in the local library that didn't look like it was falling apart, and it was maybe the only one that he hadn't read yet, so he had borrowed it and taken it home, had read it all day until he heard the tell-tale signs of his father's return ― the heavy stomps, his mother's quiet sniffles ― and shoved the book under his pillow.

It horrified him, at that time. A lot of things about the book may not have made sense to him then, but it wasn't hard to get the basics down ― the story of a man who cheated death, who was cursed by the gods to live forever, who was condemned to ceaselessly roll a rock atop a mountain, over and over and over. It stuck with him, this hopeless, meaningless tale, and over the years he found himself thinking of Sisyphus and his rock.

He thought of it, even as addiction took his mother slowly, rocking and singing her to sleep while their house fell down around him, as the ceilings held water damage and the bottom stairs held dry rot and the radiators bled rust in the winter.

He thought of it, even long after his nails weren't caked with mud and dirt and his broken bones were unbent and his skin lost their singes and burns and the poisoned water left his lungs.

He thought of it, and wondered how Sisyphus, with his rock and his mountain, could possibly be happy.

* * *

The first time he kissed her, it wasn't for any deep or meaningful reason. He did it because her eyes were impossibly green, and the dying sunlight had set her hair ablaze. He did it because her legs were drawn to her chest, her chin resting on her knees, and there were tears trailing down her face.

Red X didn't know the first thing about comforting crying women. All he knew was that Starfire was trying to stifle her heaving sobs, and the sight of her shaking shoulders made his insides squirm uncomfortably.

So he did the only thing he could think of: he kissed her.

It lasted for no more than a second, just a quick, chaste peck on the lips, but it surprised her into silence. He half-expected her to shove him off and fly away then and there ― to blast him with her starbolts, even ― but she didn't. She just looked at him with those eyes of hers, tears shining on her cheeks, and he had only a moment to wonder what was running through her head before she pulled his face to hers, into the sort of deep, sinking kiss that could never seem to go on long enough.

Starfire kissed like a challenge. There was nothing passive or uncertain, each touch like a competition, like she was daring him to keep up, and it was _electric_, her body against his, her mouth opening wider, demanding more as his hands wandered her back, her sides, her hips. She was warm, warmer than anyone he had ever felt, and her hands burned a trail on his skin.

He was vaguely aware of the sound of metal clanking to the ground, of his mask following suit, as his hands roamed her body, discovering curves and planes, the firmness of her muscles. Starfire's fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on as he lowered his face to her neck, moving his mouth across her shoulder, tongue tracing her collarbone and ―

Well. You get the picture.

* * *

It started like this:

Red X had never meant to put on the suit again. Honest. He had decided to put the whole vigilante thing, this life of gaudy masks and Kevlar suits, behind him. Sure, being a thief was fun, and ruffling Bird Boy's feathers was even better, but his brief stint with the Brotherhood had attracted unwanted attention. He may have slipped away before they could stop him, and the Titans may have gotten to them before all hell could break lose ― but no. Who could say for sure that they weren't still out there, biding their time in the shadows?

No way was he going to risk it. No way was he going to put his anonymity on the line for shits and giggles. He had worked hard to stay off the radar for as long as he had ― he wasn't going to throw it away for some cheap thrills.

But sometimes . . . sometimes he missed it. Not the suit or being a thief, but those moments before ―

Before he became _this_. He missed the feeling of running across rooftops, of leaping and swinging from the edge like nothing could stop him. It was the closest he would ever come to flying, the closest he had ever come to feeling invincible.

He missed it most on the nights he dreamed. On the nights he heard manic laughter echoing around him, felt metal digging into his flesh, smelled smoke filling his lungs. He dreamed of red numbers ticking down, of green acid burning his eyes and throat, of drowning blackness that pressed all around him as broken fingers clawed through wood and soil and mud.

The suit was a reprieve. When he wore it, when he put on the mask and simply _ran_, it felt like he could forget the nightmares, the memories, all of it. Like he could pretend that none of it ever happened.

So, yes, he had backed out of that New Year's resolution of his ― but, in his defense, didn't everyone?

* * *

Red X hadn't been prepared to see Starfire during her solo patrol. And neither did she.

For a moment, the shock of seeing the other meant that all they could do was stare.

And then he ran.

Starfire flew after him, close enough that if she chose to go on the offensive, he knew that there was no way he was going to escape. Red X hadn't powered his suit with xenothium since he snuck away from the Brotherhood, and all he had to fuel him through the chase were his adrenaline and his training. He was good, he knew, but he wasn't _that _good ― no way could he outrun a super powered alien without his gadgets.

Only he _did_.

It happened again on the next night. And the next. And the next.

On the fifth night, he didn't even bother running. He waited for her on the very same rooftop, sitting with his legs dangling over the edge. Starfire was floating above him, her green eyes glowing and her jaw clenched tight. Silence stretched as he considered.

_This is a bad idea_, he thought.

Still, he stood, not missing the way she stiffened when he stretched out his hand.

"Want to get some ice cream?" Red X said.

A beat, as the fire in her eyes dimmed. Another, as her feet landed an arm's length from his.

Then Starfire nodded.

Truthfully, he hadn't expected her to say yes.

* * *

Jump wasn't the sort of city that stayed awake. It slept peacefully, with its heroes' tower standing sentinel across the bay.

It meant that there were barely any people as they walked the streets. The few that they did pass by didn't even glance in their direction, most likely too drunk to rub their brain cells together. One had even called out to them, "Nice costume!" before stumbling away and barreling into his friends.

The downside was that there was hardly any stores open to accommodate them. No ice cream parlors or twenty-four hour cafes.

In the end, they had to go to a 7-Eleven on the other side of the city, where there was no one inside but a scrawny, dozing teenager manning the cashier. It was almost comical, this entire situation, with Red X squinting under the fluorescent lights as Starfire pored over the ice cream flavors.

"Just pick one," he wanted to say, except he wasn't one hundred percent sure this wasn't a fever dream. That, and because he had enough sense to not argue with a literal alien, one who could probably crush him with her pinky if she so wanted.

The boy at the cashier gawked at them when they went to pay, looking at each of them in turn with wide-eyed disbelief.

"Are you ―"

"Halloween party," Red X said immediately. "And no, you can't have a picture. How much for these?"

"Er ― right. Sorry, um, but you ―" the boy was staring unabashedly at Starfire now, who smiled back uncertainly, "you look just like ―"

"Yeah, she gets that a lot," Red X cut in. "Amazing what contacts and a spray tan can do. Now close your mouth, kid. You'll catch flies."

The boy glared at him but rang their items up anyway. It was like a scene from a sitcom, complete with cheesy pop music droning in the background.

"There was no need to be rude," Starfire said to him once the store was out of view.

It was the first thing she had said to him since ― well, since the whole time they've known each other, basically. Red X tried not to let his surprise show, just busied himself with looking for a spot where they could sit. Somehow, they had ended up in the park ― it was the only place he could think of with any semblance of privacy.

"Would you rather he did take a picture then?" he said as he laid his cape on the ground like a picnic blanket. "I bet you he would've posted that thing on Twitter or Facebook or whatever. Imagine the media storm ― the beloved hero and the dashing thief. Your boyfriend would have a heart attack."

Starfire scowled at him, but he didn't miss the way she flinched at the last bit.

"What? You and Spike going through a rough patch or something?"

"That is none of your business," she said, with all the warmth of a block of ice.

"Fair enough." He sat down, legs stretched out in front of him, and patted the empty space next to him. "But you can't blame me for wondering. A girl like you, out with a guy like me ― you're kind of sending mixed signals here, princess."

"I am not sending you anything," she said, still standing, staring imperiously down at him with her back ramrod straight.

"You sure about that? Because you and I both know there's nothing stopping you from dragging me off to jail right now."

"I could."

"You could. And yet ―" he gestured grandly at their surroundings, at the empty park and the quiet breeze, "here we are. If I didn't know better, I'd say this was a date."

Starfire gaped at him, sputtering, and Red X had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. "This is not a ― this is nothing of the sort!" she cried.

"Isn't it? Two attractive people out alone in the middle of the night, having a picnic and getting to know each other ― sounds like the stuff of romance to me."

She made a face, her expression scrunching up like she had just swallowed something vile. "It is most certainly not! We are not doing the ― the getting to know each other!"

"So you think I'm attractive then?"

"I did not say that you ― I never said ―!" she huffed, eyebrows furrowed together as she glowered. "You are most infuriating."

"I've heard worse," he said, shrugging. "Don't tell me you're gonna stand there all night."

She looked like she wanted to, like she would have done it just to be contrary.

"Hmm." Starfire prodded their bag of ice cream with her boot, as though waiting for it to explode or erupt into a gas or something. As if they hadn't bought it together ― with _her_ money, which he didn't even know superheroes carried ― not even ten minutes ago.

Rolling his eyes, Red X snatched a spoon and one of the pints of ice cream inside the bag and threw the other in her direction. She caught it immediately and continued to stare as he opened the lid, scooped all three flavors of Neapolitan, and slipped it beneath his mask.

Which was . . . a bad move. And messy. He really should have thought this through.

"Do you intend to eat like that for the rest of the night?" Starfire said, and he was surprised to find that she almost sounded amused.

"Depends. Promise you're not gonna fall in love with my handsome jawline?"

Stafire scoffed, but a corner of her lips quirked up in a smile. Score.

"C'mon, cutie. No one likes melted ice cream." Red X flipped his mask up to his nose, then scooped another spoonful. "If it makes you feel better about eating with _the_ _enemy_, you can say you were fishing information from me to give to your precious Robin when you get back."

That wiped the smile off her face. "Why do you insist on mentioning him? What is your interest in our relationship?"

"Nothing. Just making conversation."

She scowled at him again, but she knelt down gingerly anyway, as far from him as she could manage on their makeshift blanket, and tucked her legs behind her. "I do not see why this is of any concern to you."

"Ooh, someone's defensive."

"I thought I had made it clear I do not wish to make the small talk."

"It's not small talk, it's ― call it curiosity, I guess."

"Is there not an Earth saying, of a domesticated animal dying because of its curiosity?" she asked as she opened her pint ― bubblegum and cotton candy, which was a pink-and-blue monstrosity that should have never been born.

"Ah, but you forgot the part where it came back."

She shook her head. "That does not make sense. Things do not just come back from the dead."

"It's a saying, cutie," Red X drawled, feeling his lips twist in a sardonic smile. "Doesn't have to be literal. Besides, if you don't like the conversation topic, then change it. I didn't invite you here so we could sit in awkward silence."

Starfire looked up at him then, head cocked in interest. "Why did you? Why did you make the offer?"

"Why did you accept?" he countered.

"Did you not say it yourself? I am obtaining information from the enemy."

"Cute. Since when do you do sarcasm?"

She gave him a withering glare. "I do not appreciate your evasive attitude."

"Oh, so I'm the evasive one?"

"You are evading right now."

"Point taken."

"Then why?"

Red X smirked. "Maybe I just like to keep you guessing."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Try again."

"Look in the mirror, cutie. You're a beautiful alien with mad fighting skills and super strength. Why wouldn't I ask you out?"

"You flatter me," she deadpanned, picking up her spoon and finally taking a scoop of her ice cream. "I thought we agreed this was by no means a romantic outing."

"Hey, you said it. I never agreed."

"Do not mistake me for an idiot, X. I know you have an ulterior motive."

"Why don't you tell me yours before I tell you mine?"

Her lips thinned. "I have already said ―"

"Yeah, yeah, spying for the enemy. I heard you. But that's not it, is it? We've been doing our little cat-and-mouse dance for, what, a week now? You know I don't have xenothium ― doesn't take a genius to parse that one out ― and I know for a fact you haven't told the rest of your Kiddy League about me."

"What makes you think I have not? How do you know they are not on their way, ready to capture you?"

Red X scoffed. "If you were really stalling for them, princess, this whole conversation would've been over an hour ago. Besides, you don't need your team to take me out. You could do that on your own if you wanted."

Starfire's expression had turned to stone. He was hyper-aware of the fact that she could probably pummel him now, or throw him halfway across the city or up to the stratosphere. Still, he smirked at her, a shadowy impression of lips curving up crookedly in the dark of the night.

"But you won't," he continued. "Because you don't. Because you're as curious as I am."

"And why would I be curious?"

"Because you want to know why I'm not up to my usual dastardly acts." He hesitated, lips pressed for a moment, before he thought _oh what the hell, _and said, "And because you're running."

Her eyes, impossibly bright and impossibly green in the moonlight, were unreadable, but they remained locked with his, as if daring him to look away. "Why would I run?"

"You tell me, princess," he said, and let the heaviness of it sit between them.

* * *

Somehow, wonders of wonders, Red X survived to see the sunrise.

He wasn't sure who had looked away first, but eventually they returned to their half-melted pints until the first rays of dawn rose over the horizon. By then, they had been sitting two feet apart in silence for hours, and the air was weighed down with tension, so thick it almost clung to their skin.

Starfire hadn't answered him ― not that he had been expecting an answer anyway ― and she had flown off without so much a word goodbye. Didn't even glance at him when she stood, didn't even turn when she saw the beams of sunlight rising in the distance.

That was the end of that, he supposed. Red X didn't know how he got away unscathed, but he doubted he would be seeing her again any time soon.

Except he did.

The next night, she was there, sitting on the edge as he did the evening before. There was something different about her then, something he couldn't put his finger on. She still had that same firm stance, her eyes hard with resolve, but ―

Red X didn't know what it was that made Starfire seem so ― so _despondent_, but it was there, and she wore it around her like a cloak. Like a light had gone out inside her, and it made the world around her dimmer and grayer.

And shit, this was his fault, wasn't it? God, he really was an asshole.

"Back again, cutie?" he said as gently as he could manage, but the metallic edge of his modulator was about as soothing as a record scratch in the silence.

Starfire regarded him quietly for a moment, the picture of poise even as her shoulders slumped with resignation.

"My friends have chosen me to lead them," she said after a while.

Whatever it was he had expected her to say, that definitely wasn't it.

"What, you mean like ― as in ―" he stammered. "Lead the Titans? You're their new leader?"

Her face fell, and at once he felt even more of an asshole. "I mean ― congrats," he hurried to add, "I'm sure you'll do great. It's just ― I don't know, I wasn't expecting a change in management?"

"Neither did we," Starfire said quietly.

"Uh. . . ."

In the dark, it was hard to tell for sure, but he thought her eyes seemed . . . glassy, almost like she was going to ―

Well shit.

"So, um," he began eloquently. "You mind if I ask what brought this on?"

"You are asking me if I mind your line of questioning? That is a first."

Red X raised his hands in mock defense. "Hey, I can play nice."

"I do the doubting of that," she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "If that is true, why did you go to such lengths to irritate Robin?"

"It doesn't really take much to irritate Boy Wonder, first of all. Second, you're changing the topic. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I am certain you can find it out on your own. But you had asked me, and I do not like to leave my affairs unfinished."

Starfire glided forward until she was standing in front of him, close enough that he could see he had a few inches on her, close enough that he could meet her eyes.

"Robin intends to leave the team," she said tonelessly, with a sort of blankness that made him wonder how often she had said this speech before. "It is not a permanent retirement, nor is it an act of renouncing his place in the Titans. It is merely a break ― a working vacation, he called it ― as he attends to his responsibilities in Gotham. The team has elected me their leader in his absence."

"That's ―" he started, feeling his throat dry all of a sudden. "Great?"

"Indeed. It is a wonderful opportunity."

"Doesn't sound like it, cutie."

Starfire looked away, staring hard at the ground. "It will take some time for me to adjust ― for all of us to adjust, but I am certain that we will get used to the new ― I believe it is called, the _status quo_, yes?"

"You're being way too calm about this."

She laughed bitterly. "You asked me why I was running. Now you have your answer."

"I ―"

What, exactly? What the hell could he say to that?

Red X knew he had been overstepping his bounds the night before, but it wasn't like he had been expecting _this_. He didn't think she would actually _tell _him.

But it seemed Starfire wasn't expecting an answer. She turned, her feet rising from the ground, when ―

"Wait."

It took Red X a moment to realize that it was _him_, that it was his voice that had called her and stopped her mid-flight. She had already flown far enough that he had to run to the edge of the building to see her face, and even then he could barely make out her expression. All he saw were those eyes, glowing against the shadows, and her hair whipping around her like a halo.

"I don't dream," he found himself saying. "I mean, I do but they're just ― just nightmares. Those don't really count, do they? I haven't dreamed since ―"

Since he was a little kid, stupid enough to think that nothing could touch him, that he could do anything behind the comforting silhouette of Batman's cape, dressed in that ridiculously bright colored suit.

In the end, not even that suit had protected him.

"I don't dream."

He didn't know what possessed him to say it, what made him blurt it out in that moment, but somehow he knew ― without knowing how, without knowing why ― that it was important he told her. _You're not the only one running_.

Red X didn't know if she heard him, if his words even made sense, but he couldn't look away from her. He waited as she floated above him, staring at her silently, wearily, for what could have been seconds or minutes or hours.

Then, the slightest hint of a nod, and she was gone as quickly as she came.

* * *

Maybe he should have seen it coming. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised the next time it happened.

In his defense, there was something absolutely staggering at the thought of Starfire waiting for him on that same rooftop again after all their awkward run-ins. Even more surreal than buying ice cream with her ― _in costume ― _from 7-Eleven at two in the morning. There was a part of him that had hoped to see her again ― it was why he had gone back to that spot again in the first place ― but he hadn't actually expected it to happen. Just as he didn't know _why_ he had wanted to see her to begin with.

Curiosity, maybe? She had left so much unsaid that night, and Red X would be lying if he said he wasn't wondering about the news. He may not have been as shaken up about it as she obviously was, but he couldn't help but be curious about Bird Brain's sudden departure.

Another part of him, bigger than the last, had to admit that he wanted to see Starfire for her sake, and it was this part that he didn't want to examine too closely. Didn't want to think of what it said about him that he was seeking her out like he was, or why the sight of her sent a swooping sensation in his stomach, as though he had missed a step going downstairs.

But there she was, several emotions flashing across her face at once when she saw him. Eyes widening in surprise. Brows furrowing in hesitation. Lips pressing tightly with resolve, and then ―

"Would you like to get ice cream?"

The words sounded clunky and unsure, but there was a determined gleam in her eyes, that same challenging look from before, daring him to say no.

And Red X had never been able to resist a challenge.

"A bit cold out for ice cream, don't you think?" he said, all nonchalance. "What about hot chocolate? I could do with a cup."

The tension in her shoulders seemed to ease, just a bit. "Very well."

Red X stepped closer, ignoring the reservation and the voice telling him _danger stop what are you doing._

"Some people might get the wrong idea."

"Let them," Starfire said, and she held out her hand.


	2. freedom

Remember when I said this fic will be a three-part story? Well, after mulling it over, I decided to extend it into four parts ― but no worries! This won't affect the chapters I've already written and it won't delay my update schedule. The additional fourth part of the story will be an epilogue ― I felt that the fic needed it to tie up all the loose ends and to get some closure for certain characters in the story.

As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed this fic. It really means a lot that you took the time to read and to show your appreciation. To **Guest**, I'm glad that you thought so! To **miss** **geek**, thanks so much for never failing to read and review my StarX stuff! I'm very happy you're enjoying them so far.

To all my readers, enjoy the latest installment!

* * *

It was a matter of how you defined _dreaming_.

Technically, he did dream. He dreamed every night.

He dreamed of a crowbar clawing viciously through his skin, the teeth of the metal tugging relentlessly at his flesh, the copper scent of his blood invading his nostrils. He dreamed of laughter, high and wheezing and demanding, the unnatural sound peeling away at his sanity even more than the crowbar digging into his body. He dreamed of a clock counting down, before the darkness pressed all around him. He dreamed of pounding and scratching against the walls, thrashing in the confined space, wordless screams tearing from his throat, of crawling through mud and soil as he struggled for air. He dreamed of green waters, acid seeping through his skin, in his veins, rapidly filling his lungs, and he dreamed of _drowning drowning drowning._

But the other kind of dreaming? The one where you indulge in fantasies and make-believe? The one where you let yourself pretend and imagine, where you let yourself yearn and long for something else? Something different, something _better_?

_That _kind of dreaming? Red X hadn't dreamed like that in a long time.

He was sure Sisyphus didn't either.

* * *

Gentleness, that was what she needed, but Red X's mind was too laden with brandy and her luscious scent to truly listen to common sense. Starfire was soft and yielding as he pulled her close, her fingers blunt and biting in his scalp, and she tasted like his salvation and his damnation all at once.

She had yanked his mask away at some point, leaving only the domino mask underneath to cover his eyes. Not that it helped ― she was so close that he knew she could see them, could see enough of his eyes that she could learn who he was if she wanted. If he'd been more sensible, more alert, less of an idiot, he would have panicked, would have pushed her away, would have ―

"This doesn't mean anything."

* * *

But, before that, it went like this:

They talked. Over cups of hot chocolate, as promised. Red X hadn't been lying when he had said he thought it was too cold out. Not even California, with its bright sun and humid breeze, could keep the looming winter at bay, and already November had covered Jump's evenings and early mornings with a blanket of chilly winds and fog, the days now shorter and the nights longer.

Ironically, they bought the said hot chocolate from the same 7-Eleven store, from a different gangly teenager who wore the same dumbfounded expression as the kid from before. It would have been hilarious, if the whole thing wasn't just so damn _weird_.

Still, she offered and he agreed, so here they were, sitting on the rooftop where this _thing_ between them began.

Starfire told him about Tamaran, her planet ― and what a conversation starter, that one. Red X thought it odd at first, that she would begin with something that seemed awfully personal and private, but he supposed it made sense. _If you were running, _he thought, _if you've been running for so long and have yet to stop ― what's the first thing you run from?_

She told him stories of a tall, grey castle carved against a mountain, of dark purple skies and pink clouds, of sprawling plains and bare cliffs, of her sister and of her royal nanny, of her parents and of her brother. She told him of her family, whose features blurred in her memories, fading and dimming with each year.

Red X listened silently, watching her as her breath came out in mists, as the warmth of the cup against his palms grew cold, as the steam from her drink rising in soft billows faded in the night air.

"Do you ever miss it?" he said when she finished.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Starfire said after a moment, speaking softly, lowly, as if afraid that someone might overhear. "I do not. I am certain my friends think that I do, and perhaps there is a part of me that does. Perhaps not the palace or the responsibility that I left behind, but ― but the people. The ― the life that I could have led, if I had not been ―"

She laughed shortly, and there was something so unexpectedly sardonic about the sound that a pang of worry shot through him.

"I wish that I missed it, but it is hard to miss something that almost destroyed me. Sometimes I can not help but believe that it did, from a certain point of view."

His tongue felt heavy all of a sudden, too many thoughts and not enough words clouding his mind in a mental fog. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I am not sure," she said honestly, almost to herself. "It is strange, but a part of me believes that you know how it feels. To not miss home but to feel as though I _owe_ something to them. It ― it is silly, yes?"

_No_, he thought, thinking of his mother's gaunt face, hollow and hopeless, of stone gargoyles and a grey skyline, of red and green and yellow, flying across rooftops. _Not at all._

"I'm from Gotham," he said instead. "I'm sure you've heard of it. You know ― sunless, dreary, a trash heap with a bat furry for a patron saint?"

She smiled a small smile, nothing more than a half-quirk of her lips, but it was real, and it suited her far more than the bitterness from before. "That is not how it was described to me."

"Yeah, well, it's accurate. Trust me."

Her brows furrowed at the last bit, and Red X faltered, fearing he had said the wrong thing and broken whatever spell had engulfed them. _This is the part where she comes back to her senses. She'll remember who she is, who I am, _what_ I am ― then I'll run and we'll fight and I get dragged off to jail and ―_

"Tell me about Gotham," she said.

So he did.

* * *

It became a regular thing, these nightly meetings and secret dates ― "_It is not a date_," Starfire would say every time, to his amusement ― and, inexplicably, it became less and less surreal. It became the new normal, these meetings with her, and he found himself adjusting to the addition to his routine with surprising ease.

Shit, he couldn't possibly be _that_ desperate for someone to talk to, could he?

But there was something . . . _cathartic_ about it, just talking to her. Maybe it was because he had nothing to compare it to, maybe it was because for the first time in a long while he wasn't stuck in his own head all the damn time, but there was something easy about talking to her. Something simple.

Or as simple as conversations between a superhero alien princess and a thief in a fancy suit could be, at any rate.

They didn't always talk of Tamaran or Gotham. Some nights, he would tell her of his travels, of all the places he visited outside Jump, after he left Gotham and after he went AWOL on the Brotherhood (and, _wow_, did she not take kindly to learning he had joined them in the first place, however briefly). Some nights, she would tell him about the little domestic details that he never would have thought to associate with her, like her love of mustard and pizza and Earth holidays, like how she liked to follow Tamaranean traditions despite (or maybe because of) how little she missed her planet, like how much she enjoyed watching cartoons and romantic dramas and ―

"Wait, you watch _what_ on TV?"

"World of Fungus," she said, beaming. "It is most entertaining."

She couldn't see his face, but he was sure his pause was enough to show his disbelief. "Uh, sure. Yay to . . . molds and mushrooms, I guess."

Starfire stared at him with narrowed eyes. "I do not see the issue. It is no more entertaining to me than gore, zombies, and senseless violence are entertaining to humans."

Another pause. "Okay. I see your point."

* * *

It didn't escape his notice that of all the stories she shared, she never talked about Boy Blunder at all. She would tell him about lifting weights with the Tin Man or meditating with Goth Girl or eating tofu with Pointy Ears, but Bird Brain?

Starfire didn't mention him when she talked about the Titans. When she did, it was almost always accidental, or something done in passing, a quick reference to be made and never lingered on.

And yet, no matter how little his name was brought up, it got such a reaction from her. She would suddenly freeze, her whole body going still as stone, words catching in her throat, her breath leaving her in quick little puffs, her eyes staring at something far away. Then she would blink, and just like that she was back to the present, as though she had never left. It lasted for no more than a second, but it happened, without fail, each time she remembered _him_.

Now, Red X may be an asshole, but he wasn't that much of an asshole. He let her have these moments, let them pass without ever asking about them, without pointing them out, without acting like they were out of the ordinary. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened, and he may not have been privy to the details, but he wasn't going to push the issue or force it out of her.

He owed her that much.

* * *

People noticed. People talked.

It didn't take long for social media to blow up with conspiracy theories, news, blog posts about the supposed disappearance of the Titans leader. And when they started to pick up on the little things that showed there was someone else calling all the shots. . . .

Needless to say, that didn't go over well at all. Because humanity, at its worst, tended to be a racist, sexist, idiotic lot of bastards.

Still. They didn't talk about it.

But if Red X insisted on getting extra marshmallows for their hot chocolate, and if he bought mustard to drizzle all over Starfire's ice cream on the days when TV personalities and so-called newscasters on so-called news channels were particularly vicious in their racist, sexist idiocy, _well_ ―

No one could prove anything. He was, after all, still a scoundrel.

* * *

She said it first, the word slipping out of her so easily that he almost didn't hear it.

"What did you just say?"

"I was merely wishing you well," Starfire said, taken aback. "Had I used a different language? I apologize, I had not noticed ―"

"No, you didn't, I meant ― it's just ― what you said after that."

_Friend._ She had called him _friend_.

That was ― unexpected?

Red X had never tried to put a label on this arrangement between them, but hearing her use _that_ word made something stir in his chest ―

Starfire frowned at him. "You mean _friend_?"

― and seeing her reaction to his reaction made him suddenly feel foolish. Even with the metallic edge of his voice modulator, his words sounded small and vulnerable to his ears. Unnatural.

"Um," he said lamely. "Yes?"

"We are friends, are we not?" she said, as though this had been obvious all along. "I do not think all our meetings make us mere acquaintances."

His brain was still processing these changes ― that was his only excuse for why he had to stare at her blankly for a second.

"Aren't you worried," he said at last, trying to keep his tone light, unconcerned, "about what your Brady Bunch will say if they find out you're hanging around with strange men?"

"Our friendship has nothing to do with them." She shook her head and crossed her arms, looking petulant. "It is none of their business. You are my friend and whatever opinion they might have will not change my regard."

Well.

All right then.

He was friends with an alien warrior princess. That was new.

"Huh," Red X said after a while. "So you finally admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That you _do_ like me. I knew it'd only be a matter of time before you gave in to my charms."

"This is a trap," she said, sounding unimpressed, but he could see her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I have said nothing of that sort."

"You smiled. I saw a smile."

"Perhaps."

Hey, just because they were friends now didn't mean he couldn't flirt with her, just a little.

* * *

There was a new Robin in Gotham. Younger, scrawnier, and almost painfully obviously inexperienced.

It struck him, when he heard, when blurred pictures of reported sightings first came out. _No, he couldn't __―__ he wouldn't have . . . not after . . . why would he ―_

For a while, there were people speculating. Maybe it wasn't a new Robin after all, but the old one, and maybe that was why the Titans were down to four.

But all the rumors and theories were put to rest, when the Bat himself showed up in the photos. Of course, the Caped Crusader didn't go out of his way to actually confirm that he had gotten himself another partner ― he never did ― but his appearance in those pictures, showing him and the new Robin working with the Commissioner, was the only confirmation that Gotham and the rest of the world needed.

And that only fueled the fire even more ― more gossip, more speculation, about what happened to the _first_ brat to don the traffic light costume.

As for Red X and Starfire? They didn't talk about it either.

* * *

Months after, _another_ news hit. Admittedly, Red X hadn't noticed, thinking at first that it was just more conspiracy theories, more stories made up by people who spent too much time in front of their computers to do much else but speculate. He thought nothing of it, when whispers that another vigilante, garbed in black and blue, had been spotted in Blüdhaven.

That is, until he was spotted in Gotham. With the new Robin. With Batman.

Until _he_ fucking announced his appearance to the world himself ― waving, smiling, _winking_ at the damn camera and disappearing into the night with some fancy acrobatic flips and shit.

He called himself Nightwing.

If the previous news was a punch to the gut, this one was more like someone had ripped out Red X's insides, stomped on them, then shoved them back in. Which, okay, sounded gross, but also really fucking _painful_, so a fairly accurate description of what Red X had felt.

He didn't even get why he felt that way, truth be told. Red X knew there had to be some Freudian, psychological reason for it, showing just how messed up his psyche was, but whatever.

Because how the fuck was this fair? That Nightwing got to be fucking _Nightwing_? That he got to grow up and pick a name for himself? That he got to _choose_? That he got to become that, when Red X ―

All Red X ever got was a secondhand title and a stolen costume. Leftovers, just scraps that fucking Nightwing didn't want to keep.

It wasn't fair. It really fucking wasn't.

_But when has life ever been fair?_ Red X thought derisively.

He wasn't even surprised that the night he had learned of Gotham's new media darling, he ended up getting no sleep at all. It happened more often than he cared to admit, unable to track down that illusive gift of sleep, but it had happened less since this thing ― _friendship_, apparently ― with Starfire began.

But the nightmares? Those never stayed away for long.

So that night, after hours and hours of only his thoughts for company, of staring into the darkness, of memories of demented clowns and buried coffins and acid waters flashing behind his eyes, he woke, barely rested, and scrambled away from his bed, put on his stolen suit, and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Starfire was there on their rooftop, waiting. Of course she would be. Of course she had heard.

"He looks happy, does he not?" she said, resigned and wistful.

A strange, sour flavor teased the back of his tongue. At the truth of her words, at the open longing on her face. The words slipped out of him before he could think them through.

"God, I need a drink."

Starfire turned to him, pulled away from her reverie. "Hot chocolate?" she suggested, because it had become almost tradition now.

"Not that kind of drink, cutie."

Red X expected her to balk, or to ask him what he meant.

"Very well," she said instead.

"Wait, what?"

She was already standing, smoothing down the wrinkles and creases of her attire. "Let us get the drinks. I assume you were referring to beverages of an alcoholic nature?"

Red X stared. "That has to be the most clinical pick-up line I've ever heard."

She rolled her eyes.

* * *

Red X would never dare to admit it, even on the pain of death, but he was something of a lightweight. It took only a few glasses before he got tipsy, before the stars above him started spinning and the ground he sat on felt like it was tilting.

In his defense, he wasn't really all too fond of drinking, and avoided it when he could help it. Sure, it numbed the pain and the memories and the nightmares for a bit, but the hangover that came after wasn't worth it. Plus, his bastard of a father had taken all the fun of alcohol away from him.

And, anyway, the drinks tasted fucking disgusting.

Yet here he was, sharing a now half-empty bottle of golden brandy with Starfire, who was . . . surprisingly, disconcertingly quiet.

Not that there was much to talk about. Both were too absorbed in their thoughts, Red X with his memories and Starfire with whatever hang-ups she had with Bird Boy. But Red X never would have thought that alcohol affected Tamaraneans the way it did humans, and the reasonable, rational side of him couldn't help but wonder how the fuck she was going to fly back to her Tower in the state she was in.

"I have arrived at a conclusion," Starfire said after a while, when she had finished contemplating the mysteries of the glass of brandy he had poured her.

She sounded fine, her voice clear and each word distinct, and if Red X didn't know better, he would say she was sober. But no ― there was a slump in her almost always perfect posture, and a cloudy, vacant look on her face that wasn't there when they had clinked their glasses together and said _cheers._

But talking was a good sign, wasn't it? Starfire was normally so talkative, always with her heart on her sleeve, always quick to share what was on her mind.

"Oh?" Red X said.

She turned to him with a look of intense concentration. "You knew him," she said, with an air of finality that sent an icy bolt of panic lancing right through his middle.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Nightwing." The name sounded strange on her lips, like she was still getting used to the shape of it. "You knew him."

Red X scoffed. "And how did you come to such a startling leap of logic, princess?"

"Because I fail to see another reason for your need to, as you say, _drink your sorrows._"

"Hey, maybe I'm just doing this as a show of solidarity. Because I'm nice like that. You like nice men, don't you?"

"You are not."

He let out a dramatic gasp, clutching at his heart as though he'd been stabbed. "I'm not nice? You wound me, cutie. Really."

Starfire scowled in the way that meant she was ruthlessly suppressing a smile. "You are not doing this to show solidarity," she said seriously.

"You sound sure about that."

"I am."

"Hmm."

A beat passed, and then, "You have yet to convince me otherwise," she said, eyes soft and warm. "Is it true, then? Did you know him?"

Red X looked away, thinking quickly. "Everyone knew him, sweetheart," he drawled coolly. "Gothamite, remember?"

Starfire clearly didn't believe him, and she tried to catch his eye, saying nothing more. She didn't push, and somehow that made the silence even worse.

Red X sighed, struggling to find the words. "This whole thing, it's ― it reminded me of things I'd rather not be reminded about. How's that?"

"You do not have to tell me if you do not wish to."

Her words were gentle and light, and he knew she meant them, but he found that he needed to say _something_. The memories still haunted him, needles pressing just below his skin, a wet poison burning its way through his veins.

"It's stupid," he started. He was having trouble coming up with what to say. "It's just ― it's not fair, is it? That he gets to be ― _there_ and happy and I'm ―" he chuckled, as dry as dust, "a fucking mess."

There was silence, and then, suddenly ―

"Starfire?"

Starfire was _crying_, her heaving sobs piercing through the quiet like a gunshot.

"He told me about his plans before he ― before he left," she said, and he hated the way her voice cracked, the way her shoulders shook, the way her tears kept flowing. "I suppose a part of me still hoped that he would ― that he did not ―"

Starfire forced a laugh. It was a bitter, half-hearted laugh which caught in her throat, but it was the principle of the thing.

"I thought it would be the two of us, until the end. Even when he ―" She smiled, but it had a terrible hollowness, and Red X felt a block of ice settle in his stomach. "This is ridiculous. I am _rutha_ ― _weak_ for still being in ―" she broke off again, sobbing even harder.

"You're not ― you're not weak, Star," he said, trying to quell his mounting panic. Something very much like his heart turned over in his chest for the look in her eyes ― they were unseeing, staring at something beyond him, past him ― and, without thinking, he reached for her.

Acting, as ever, on impulse, he pulled his mask up to his nose, leaned over, and kissed her. She jerked away minutely as his mouth touched hers, but he was already pulling away before the softness of her lips, the feel of it against his, could properly register. He pulled back just enough to see her eyes, their noses brushing and their breaths mingling together, warm and smelling of brandy. Her gaze was hard and unreadable, and he was just thinking, _Oh God, I've really done it now, this will be the most awkward, humiliating _. . . when her hand was suddenly on the nape of his neck, pulling him back. His pulse thundered in his ears, his skin hot where she touched him, radiating strange warmth outward from the point of contact. Testing the waters, he opened his mouth and gently teased her bottom lip with both of his. After a heartbeat's hesitation, she copied him, slowly mirroring his subtle movements as she returned the kiss. The jolt of chemistry or recognition or whatever it was when sparks flew, was so strong that he felt weightless and jittery as they parted, his lips moving downward, feeling her hesitation fade with each searing touch.

_This is a bad idea_, he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

* * *

"_I find no meaning in the happiness of angels_," said Camus, and this, Red X could agree with. "_I know simply that this sky will last longer than I_."

Because, yeah, Red X would know, better than anyone, about how hollow and empty everything is. How pointless, how irrelevant. Every action, each push toward the mountaintop ― it meant nothing in the long run, just loud ringing against the dark silence, because Sisyphus' rock would always come tumbling down, again and again.

Even death meant nothing at all.

"_The human heart has a tiresome tendency to label as fate only what crushes it_," and this too, Red X could get behind. "_But happiness likewise, in its way, is without reason ―_"

"_― since it is inevitable_." But this?

What a load of bullshit.

* * *

The first time he kissed her, it wasn't for any deep or meaningful reason. He did it because her eyes were impossibly green, and the dying sunlight had set her hair ablaze. He did it, even when he knew that that the moment she pulled him back for more, she had dragged another man in that kiss, and she would drag that other man in bed and everywhere else.

But _why_ he kept kissing her, why he kept touching her, why he kept holding her close? Later, he would say that it was because of the alcohol, and because she was beautiful, and he really was only a man. He would say that he did it because it made her tears stop flowing and he knew fuck-all about waterworks and comfort, so why the hell not.

The truth, though, was simple. And terrifying and inexplicable and he'd be damned if he would admit it to anyone, even himself.

He did it because somehow, in between his flirting and her exasperated sighs, in between his stories of his travels and her tales of home, in between their pints of ice cream and cups of hot chocolate and secret, decidedly not-romantic rendezvous ― at some point, without him knowing how, she had saved him. He had been drowning in his memories for so long, and she had made herself his anchor. She didn't even know it, but these nights with her felt like sanctuary, like she had flown him away from his mountain and his rock and brought him back to flat, solid ground.

His fingers were twined in her hair, and she was tracing his shoulder with her lips, tracing the nape of his neck, as she ran her fingertips over his arms, leaving crescent-shaped half-scars.

"This doesn't mean anything," he whispered, his breath hovering above the shell of her ear, before covering her mouth with his.


End file.
